


how to never stop being sad.

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Drinking, M/M, Michael-centric, One-Sided Attraction, Self-Hatred, Song - Freeform, Song fic, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, rich is only there for like.. two seconds btw, today on: jeremy please be a better friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: repeat to yourself that they're not really gone.time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie is the most effective way to deal with things you have no control over.inspired by the song "how to never stop being sad" by dandelion hands.





	how to never stop being sad.

**Author's Note:**

> tw for like... general self hatred and underage drinking

_Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone._  
_Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing a lie is the most effective way to deal with things you have no_ _control over._

 

Michael wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this. 

It felt like Jeremy had left him again. He had a whole new group of friends, one that Michael was not apart of. They tried adding Michael into their group, but he could see that he wasn’t wanted. They all had some kind of bond Michael wasn’t apart of. They exchanged looks and forced smiles that they hoped Michael wouldn’t see. Michael would saw every time. He knew he wasn’t wanted. He wasn’t wanted by anyone. Not even Jeremy. 

 

 _Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you._  
_Overanalyse every single word you hear._  
_“Was this a sign that things were going wrong?”_  
_No, no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them._

 

Music. Maybe music would help Michael. He could always rely on music to back him up. Music wouldn’t buy a supercomputer, abandon him, and right when things were supposed to be okay again, leave him for another group of people. 

He pulled up his favorite Spotify playlist on his phone. Jeremy and Michael had made it, playing on listening to it if they ever went on a road trip. The way things were going, it was likely they would never have that road trip. 

Each song made him think of Jeremy. Michael wanted to be mad at Jeremy. He wanted to hate his guts for leaving him again. But he couldn’t. Somehow, this had to be Michael’s fault. It was Michael’s fault for being too clingy after the “SQUIPcident”. It was his fault for being too clingy in general. It was his fault for not fitting in with Jeremy’s new friends. It was his fault for being jealous. It was his fault for being absolutely in love with Jeremy. 

 

 _Stay up every single night staring at your phone, either attempting to gather up the courage to turn these demons, these constant reminders of your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream._  
_Or praying, just for one second, you could feel the warmth of equally returned love._

He should text Jeremy, and Jeremy could tell Michael everything he needed to hear. He would tell Michael that he was his best friend, his favorite person. He would say nothing would ever come between them. New friends didn’t mean they had to stop being best friends. And maybe, just maybe, Michael would feel loved. 

 _Yeah, Mell,_ Michael thought bitterly, _that’s a good one._

 

 _Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself._  
_Always bring your notebook, never stop writing._  
_Leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip._  
_Watch them smile as you get in your car._

 

Michael could do this. He had it. He pulled up Jeremy’s contact, his name being “Player 2 <3″ of course. His hands shaking more than he would ever admit, Michael typed a message.

“ **yoo germ how’s it hangin** ”

It was a normal text. There was nothing strange about it. Jeremy would never know that Michael was sitting alone in his basement, on the verge of tears because he felt so fucking alone. 

His phone dinged once, then twice, and nervous joy filled him. A text from “Player 2 <3″! Michael steadied himself before opening the text. Just because Jeremy texted back meant it was good. Jeremy could’ve texted something horrible. Michael couldn’t get his hopes up. Not yet. 

“ **Hey Michael!!! <3**″ Michael broke out in a grin. He would’ve never thought a simple “Hey Michael” with a heart emoji could make him feel like he was on Cloud Nine.

The next text sent his heart and all other positive emotions out the window, and straight into hell.

“ **I’ll text you back later! I’m hanging out with everyone else right now!** ” 

  
Michael threw his phone at the wall.

 

 _Always talk down on yourself whenever possible._  
_My life is shit because I deserve it, right?_  
_You must’ve done something really bad, and it’s nearly impossible for you to cry now._

 

What did Michael do to deserve this? He knew, deep down somewhere, he deserved it. He had to have deserved it. If he didn’t deserve it, why would any of it be happening? 

Michael had to have done something wrong. 

He simply wasn’t good enough for Jeremy. 

Jeremy was different now, which meant Jeremy hung out with different people. People who were cooler. 

They did everything together. But when Jeremy became cool, Michael didn’t get the memo. 

 

 _Avoid your friends for weeks on even though they’re the only sense of consistency you have left in your life._  
_If they really wanted to see you they’d come, but they won’t._  
_Who cares?”_

 

His phone dinged again. His hands clutched into fists at his side, he walked over to pick it up off the ground. The screen surprisingly wasn’t cracked. The text wasn’t even from Jeremy. It was from Rich. 

Rich and Michael weren’t close friends. Michael wasn’t even sure if they were friends. They hardly texted, and never hung out. Then again, Michael hardly hung out with anyone anymore. 

The text read: “ **sup mell how r u** ”

Michael texted back a simple “ **shitty.** ”

All Rich said was “ **sucks for u man :/** ”

He threw his phone at the wall, taking satisfaction in hearing it finally crack. Rich didn’t care. Why would he? Why would anyone care? 

 

 _Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love._  
_Watch as you begin to take a backseat to the world around you._  
_Don’t fight it._  
_Become a secondary character in your own motion picture._

 

Michael couldn’t do anything. Video games, watching TV, smoking weed, paint something. 

It all reeked of Jeremy. 

Michael actually did try sketching something, someone actually. But when he noticed he had subconsciously drew Jeremy, he ripped it into pieces. 

He figured he simply wasn’t cut out for life. He couldn’t do anything because he wasn’t made for doing anything. 

He should just give up. Giving up sooner meant he could risk heart-break and disappointment and loss. Again, at least. 

 

 _But most importantly, drown every single one of your feelings in old stolen rum._  
_Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat._  
_Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach.  
_ _You're drinking bottled love now._

Drinking was something he never did with Jeremy. Drinking was something he could try.

Michael’s parents weren’t home, and Michael knew where they hid the beer. They wouldn’t notice if it was gone. If they did, they wouldn’t even care. No one would care. 

The first bottle was the worst. It tasted like shit and burned going down his throat. He wondered how anyone could drink that. Then again, he smoked weed, and that was just as awful. 

It got easier the more he drank. The burning became a calming numb feeling. It gave him a sense of warmth that he craved so badly. He thought of the sleepovers he used to have with Jeremy all the time. When they were younger, neither of them cared about sleeping on the same bed. It was no big deal to them. Michael remembered in eighth grade the time Jeremy slept a little too close, curling up right in Michael’s side. Michael didn’t sleep that night. His heart was racing, his head full of thoughts of the other boy. 

As Michael crawled into a ball on the cold tile floor, he imagined Jeremy next to him. He imagined Jeremy running his fingers through Michael’s hair, wiping away the hot fat tears that ran down Michael’s face, and whispering “I love you”s until Michael fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

_You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness._

_You just needed to find a way to talk to it._


End file.
